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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660275">It Takes A Village</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndromedaRecord/pseuds/TheAndromedaRecord'>TheAndromedaRecord</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Worms, Everybody Lives, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Good Guy Elias Bouchard, Happy Ending, Intersex Tim Stoker, Introspection, Original Character(s), Parenthood, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Tim Stoker, Unplanned Pregnancy, danny stoker isn't here but he has a lot of emotional weight, dont worry nothing bad happens to the baby but there is a close call or two, elias redemption arc, everyone loves this baby, friends raising a kid, nontraditional family, sorta - Freeform, the healing power of family, tim stoker doing a kegstand over a barrel of Respect Women Juice, yes hes trans yes hes a biological father thank you 5-alpha reductase deficiency</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:33:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndromedaRecord/pseuds/TheAndromedaRecord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just supposed to be a hookup. The lasting effects were supposed to be nothing more than a few weeks of awkwardness between best friends. </p><p>As far as family-based surprises go, Tim's had a lot worse than Sasha getting pregnant on one-in-a-million odds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood &amp; Sasha James &amp; Jonathan Sims &amp; Tim Stoker, Sasha James &amp; Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yes i KNOW i have 8 wips and i really shouldn't be starting another one but this idea grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go so enjoy</p><p>I wrote Tim as intersex and trans in this fic, but I am neither intersex nor trans, so if i make a mistake please feel free to let me know</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We need to talk.” </p><p>	“Um.” Tim blinks at Sasha, who’s standing on his doorstep, jaw held with hardened resolve. “Come in?” </p><p>	Sasha comes in, but doesn’t sit down on the couch. She just stands in the entryway as Tim shuts the door, feeling increasingly nervous. She looks like she’s about to start a couple’s quarrel, but they aren’t a couple—they’ve been dancing around each other for a month after their ill-advised hookup. What is she doing at his house? They’ve agreed they won’t work out as a couple—why does she look like she’s about to drop a bombshell on him? </p><p>	“Would you like to sit?” Tim asks.</p><p>	Sasha shakes her head. “I won’t stay long. I just need to tell you something, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”</p><p>	“Okay, shoot.” Tim figures she’s quitting, or maybe she’s found someone, or maybe she really regrets sleeping with him and wants them to never speak again—all of which Tim would be okay with, of course, she can have boundaries. It would be fine if he lost his best friend. Just fine. No, he tells himself sternly, stop catastrophizing. It’s fine, she probably just—</p><p>	“I’m pregnant.”</p><p>	Tim chokes on air. “Wh-you’re—it’s not mine, is it?” </p><p>	He immediately feels like an idiot. Of course she thinks it’s his. Why else would she be here? But what the hell else was he supposed to say? It can’t be his. The chances of it being his are astronomically small. The chances of her being pregnant at all are supposed to be astronomically small!</p><p>	Sasha nods. She looks scared, but determined. Like she used to before a day at work in Artifact Storage. </p><p>	“You said you were on birth control!” Tim says, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. “That’s why I agreed not to use a condom!” Well, not the only reason, but definitely most of this.</p><p>	“I was!” Sasha insists. “But—well, you know, it’s not 100 percent effective.”</p><p>	“Even without the birth control,” Tim says, “Sasha, the chances of me being fertile are one in a million. You know that!”</p><p>	“Yes, I do. But you were the only person I slept with for three months, and I haven’t slept with anyone since. So unless this is the second coming, you’re the father.”</p><p>	Tim takes a deep breath, then another. “Right. Right. Okay. Cool. Can we, um. Could we sit down for the rest of this conversation?”</p><p>	Sasha frowns, looking a little confused, as if they’re just talking about where they want to eat lunch and Tim is overreacting to <em>somehow being fertile and potentially becoming a father.</em></p><p>	“All right,” she says, a bit wearily, and the two of them sit side by side on the couch.</p><p>	Tim realizes he’s grinning like an idiot. It’s a bit selfish, of course—Sasha’s the mother, she’s the one who needs support. But he’s the father. He’s undoubtedly the father. After being erroneously raised as a girl, transitioning, getting a surprise boost of free hormones, but then told his hell-of-a-late-bloomer cock would probably never be able to produce kids...well. It’s quite affirming. It’s not just the pregnancy itself, he realizes. Sasha might want to keep it, and then he’ll be a dad. He’ll get to be a father! The thought makes him giddy, and the happiness hits him like a truck. He had no idea he was this gung-ho about starting a family. Maybe he’s just fucked up on adrenaline, and the whole situation will hit soon and he’ll start crying. </p><p>	“So,” Tim says, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He can’t tell if it’s through fear or excitement. “Are you going to keep it? Because if you want an abortion, I’ll pay for it, no problem.”</p><p>	Sasha cocks her head. “I figured you’d want a say.” </p><p>	“It’s not my decision to make,” Tim tells her. “It’s your body. You’re the one who’d have to carry it for nine months.”</p><p>	Sasha nods decisively. “Right. Well,  I’m going to. Carry it to term, I mean. And then be a mother.”</p><p>	“All right.” Tim takes yet another deep breath. “All right.”</p><p>	That surprises him, quite frankly. Sasha is driven, career-oriented, and fairly solitary. But knowing Sasha, and Tim does, she’s thought about this decision more carefully than Tim can even comprehend.</p><p>	“I’ve always wanted to be a mom someday,” Sasha continues, a little smile starting to creep over her face. “I didn’t plan on it being now, but, well.” She rubs a hand over her still-flat belly, and the smile grows. “It’ll be hard, but I can’t imagine doing anything else now that I have the opportunity. I just…it seemed like I should let you know.”</p><p>	Tim feels like he’s missing something. Why is she being so brusque?</p><p>	“Fortunately,” she goes on, “the Institute has a pretty generous parental leave policy, and according to Jim in accounting they’re fairly good about single parents—“</p><p>	Oh.</p><p>	“Hang on,” Tim interrupts. “Single parents?”</p><p>	“Tim,” Sasha says softly, “you signed up for a slightly drunken hookup, not supporting a child for their whole life. Of course it would be better to have your help, to have you be a dad, but I couldn’t ask that of you.”</p><p>	“And you won’t have to.” Tim’s mind is made up in that instant, and he takes her hands. “I’m in.”</p><p>	“You realize we won’t—this doesn’t mean—“</p><p>	He knows what she means—she doesn’t want a relationship. She’s been quite clear about that, and Tim’s not about to insist they be romantically involved. It does sadden him a little—Sasha is smart and beautiful and kind and strong and everything a person could possibly want. </p><p>	She’s going to make an amazing mother, and an amazing person to raise a child with.</p><p>	“I know, and I don’t care. It’s my kid too, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be as much a part of their life as any dad should be.” He offers her a smile. “We’re in this together, Sash. If you’ll have me, that is.” </p><p>	Sasha giggles slightly manically and hides her smile behind her hand. “I just thought—you know, you said it wasn’t your decision—“</p><p>	“Sasha!” Tim places a hand to his chest in an over exaggerated gesture of offense. “So you think just because I respect women’s bodily autonomy I don’t want to be a dad? Really, m’lady, you wound me!”</p><p>	Sasha dissolves into laughter. “If you buy a fedora I’m taking the child and running.”</p><p>	“What if I buy the child a fedora?”</p><p>	“You’re horrible!” </p><p>	They take a moment of laughter before settling down and meeting each other’s eyes.</p><p>	“We should probably figure this whole thing out,” he says. </p><p>	“You’re really willing to do this,” Sasha whispers, almost to herself.</p><p>	“Of course I am,” Tim tells her. “Listen, Sash, this is pretty much the last thing I was expecting. But…I’d like a family.” He chokes back some tears that are coming from literally nowhere—well, his whole family being dead probably has something to do with it. “I’m all in.”</p><p>	Sasha smiles up at him, and she looks truly happy. Nervous, but happy. And then she starts crying, and that’s all it takes to start Tim crying. Sasha leans into his chest and wraps her arms around him. </p><p>	“Sorry,” she mutters. “I just…it’s been a bit, since I wasn’t on my own.”</p><p>	“Yeah,” Tim weeps into her hair, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. “We got this, Sasha. We’re gonna parent the <em>shit</em> out of this kid.” He sniffles. “Just as soon as we figure out the logistics.”</p><p>	“This is really sudden, Tim. You can’t—you can’t just make this decision.”</p><p>	Tim just holds her closer. “Well, then, I’ll think about it for as long as you want, and I’ll come back with the same answer. Because I want to be a dad.” Sasha’s fingers clutch tightly to his shirt. “I want to be a family.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Is that everything?”</p><p>	“Yup,” Sasha confirms. </p><p>	They stand in the middle of Tim’s living room, surveying all of Sasha’s things from her apartment strewn over all the floor space. Tim supposes he should stop thinking about it as just his house. This is the James family residence now, and just the thought fills him with excitement and anticipation. He’s been alone in the place for far too long, wandering the halls of his parents’ last gift. He hasn’t used the guest room in ages, but now it’ll be a perfect room for Sasha. He’s actually looking forward to sharing the space. The house can be lonely.</p><p>	And the child…well. Tim is sure Danny wouldn’t mind his room going to a new baby. In fact, Danny used to talk about fatherhood. How he’d like to foster teenagers in the system once he’s settled down a bit, to help parentless children who didn’t have an older brother like he did. </p><p>	He’d have been the best uncle. No, Danny won’t mind his room being converted at all.</p><p>	He doesn’t open the door to the room. He hasn’t in four years, and he’s not ready yet. He used to be unable to envision ever being ready.</p>
<hr/><p>It’s a bit of an adjustment. No, a lot of an adjustment. Sasha’s lived alone ever since getting out of college, and the foster system certainly wasn’t conducive to forming attachments to a house. She likes her solitude. She likes coming home to an empty flat.</p><p>	Tim likes playing video games after work and playing guitar on the front porch. He whistles while he does dishes and plays handball by the dining table. Sasha was expecting this sort of thing. But she learns all sorts of new things about her friend—her best friend, she realizes with quiet certainty.</p><p>	He doesn’t like to talk for at least an hour after getting home from work, which is perfectly agreeable to Sasha. She knows the feeling of total social exhaustion. He’s fastidiously clean, and he can’t stand scented laundry soaps. He has his meal budget down to a science, and it takes them a whole three hours to rework it to include Sasha. It’s Tim who thinks to add an extra few pounds every week for cravings. </p><p>	She learns that Tim isn’t having second thoughts yet. He’s already started planning out a nursery, and every week he goes to the bookshop down on the corner and peruses their selection of parenting books. It isn’t a very extensive collection, and more often than not he ends up with some architectural guidebook or pulp novel. That’s another thing about Tim—he never leaves a bookshop empty handed. </p><p>	“I’m thirty-six,” he comments one night as they eat spaghetti over an episode of Downton Abbey. “When the baby’s here, will I be a DILF?”</p><p>	Sasha snorts so hard water comes out of her nose. </p><p>	The next morning, they have an extremely heated argument over shower schedules, and then they both feel extremely stupid.</p><p>	It’s a good house to raise a kid. Far better than Sasha’s old flat would have been. There’s even a tiny backyard that Tim has completely overtaken with raised beds to grow vegetables. It’s near some good schools. And it’s got quite the dad in it.</p><p>	Sasha rubs her hand over her belly. It’s still flat.</p><p>	She hasn’t quite gotten used to the idea of Tim raising the baby with her. She thought about the decision for days after missing her period, and nowhere did another parent factor in. And she was still sure of her decision. </p><p>	She watches as Tim makes the rounds of the house, making note of every little thing that needs to be childproofed, and something funny flips in her belly. Because she could get used to this. She could get used to this house, to this man. </p><p>	As a kid, she used to get used to houses. And then she had to leave.</p><p>	Sasha goes online and looks for electrical socket covers.</p>
<hr/><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jon says carefully, ever so carefully. He’s always been either exceedingly careful or ruthlessly boorish—or both—with his questions. Tim finds it annoying and endearing in equal measure. “I notice you and Sasha are arriving together in your car every morning. Are you, ah, together?”</p><p>	Tim freezes up. They haven’t talked about telling their friends—not that they have that many, they’re both fairly introverted. It’s not like it’s a simple situation, and Jon seems like the exact sort of person to be stuffy about it. Fortunately, Sasha swoops in to save the day, having apparently overheard Jon’s question.</p><p>	“No,” she tells him. “It’s a bit of a complicated situation.”</p><p>	Jon nods stiffly. “Ah. Well. Don’t feel the need to tell me. I was merely curious.”</p><p>	Tim and Sasha shoot each other an amused glance as Jon determinedly returns to his work.</p>
<hr/><p>“We’ll have to bring it up with work eventually,” Sasha says as they drive home. “And Jon should know.”</p><p>	“I know,” Tim sighs. “I just…ours isn’t going to be a typical family. It’s not like we’re going to be getting married anytime soon.” That elicits a wry chuckle out of Sasha. “I know I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks, but…”</p><p>	“…you’re afraid of judgment,” Sasha finishes.</p><p>	“I want to tell him,” Tim says. “I just—I don’t know how.”</p><p>	“It’s better to explain now than when I’m visibly pregnant,” Sasha replies.</p><p>	“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Tim pauses. “Do we have to tell HR? We do, right?”</p><p>	Sasha snorts. “Our HR department is a farce. They don’t care about anything besides Artifact Storage incidents.”</p><p>	“Oh, God,” Tim groans. “Do we have to tell Bouchard?”</p><p>	“He’d probably tell us we have to get married to avoid bringing shame on both our houses,” Sasha says somberly. “He’d send me off to a nunnery.”</p><p>	Tim laughs, but quickly sobers up as something occurs to him.</p><p>	“Are you worried,” he asks tentatively, not looking away from the road, “about your career?”</p><p>	Sasha sighs and slumps back in her seat. “That’s one of the things I considered when I was deciding whether or not to keep the baby. Ideally, this wouldn’t change anything, but, well…I wasn’t altogether joking about Bouchard, he is pretty traditional. I don’t imagine there will be any promotions coming my way anytime soon, even if Ms. Robinson up and dies. I’ve accepted that, and it’s a tradeoff I’m willing to make. I’m going to put the kid first.” She chuckles. “I’ll still be pissed if Bouchard pulls some sexist bullshit, though.”</p><p>	“Amen to that. Let’s hope Bouchard is in the 21st century with the rest of us.”</p><p>	“What about you?”</p><p>	“Hm?”</p><p>	“I know you care about your work. It’s not just sexism, Tim, navigating work is going to be hard for any new parent.”</p><p>	Tim doesn’t answer, instead taking a moment to think. Truth is, he hasn’t really thought about it. He’s always been a bit of a workaholic, but since joining the Institute, he’s thrown himself into research for reasons totally unrelated to career advancement. His work isn’t a career so much as a quest for answers, for revenge. The knowledge settles like a weight in his gut that he’ll have to carve quite a hole out of it to make room for a kid. It feels like a betrayal, somehow.</p><p>	But it’s not a betrayal of Danny. Danny wouldn’t mind. Danny would want him to put the child first. </p><p>	So why does he feel unmoored?</p><p>	“If I cared about my career,” he finally says, “I would have stayed in publishing.”</p><p>	It isn’t really an answer, but Sasha nods anyway.</p>
<hr/><p>Tim comes to all the appointments Sasha has with her practitioner. He even brings a notepad—Tim doesn’t even write down his meeting times at work. After every meeting about the next stage of the pregnancy, he asks how he can help. As if he means to stay through the third trimester and beyond. As if this is all he could ever want from his late thirties. </p><p>	It’s not that Sasha has regrets, or doubts. Every time she thinks of the baby growing inside her, her heart fills with so much love and happiness she’s afraid it’ll burst out of her chest. </p><p>	It’s just that it’s so much better to have Tim with her. And she’s terrified of how things will change if he backs out. She’s not an idiot. She knows this won’t be easy. </p><p>	Sasha has started putting increasingly odd and sweet items on the grocery list. Tim hasn’t had any complaints about them living together, and he seems happy enough to buy whatever her current craving is, but she can’t imagine that's going to last. He doesn’t complain when holding her hair back at six in the morning, even rubs her back comfortingly. She has to admit that it’s way nicer having him there—she can imagine doing this alone, and the imagining already isn’t pleasant.</p><p>	But—and there’s always a but.</p><p>	Tim and her have agreed not to date. They’ve agreed they’re better off friends, and that friendship hasn’t even stopped being awkward yet. Not that she’s against nontraditional families—it’s a weight off her shoulders to be able to raise a child without the expectation of marriage and all that accompanies. But how long will Tim feel the same? How long will he stick around once he realizes how hard pregnancy is, let alone raising a child? They work together, they live together—how long until they get sick of each other?</p><p>	It’s starting to stress her out, which she knows is bad for the baby, which stresses her out even more. </p><p>	“Sasha.”</p><p>	Sasha jolts in her seat and looks up to see Jon standing by her desk, looking slightly annoyed. </p><p>	“I’ve said your name three times. Are you quite all right?”</p><p>	“Yeah, just tired. You know how Fridays are.” Truth is, she’s been absolutely fatigued to the bone for weeks, but Jon doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>	Jon just gives her a blank look. “Well.” He deposits a manila file folder on her desk. “Here’s a new statement regarding a hairpin we have in Artifact Storage. Ms. Robinson requested you do the follow-up.”</p><p>	Sasha picks up the folder with a strained smile. Just what she needs—an emotionally taxing assignment. It’s nothing more than a minor annoyance, really. Her body is going to have to try a lot harder than this if it wants the pregnancy to stop her from working.</p><p>	Jon opens his mouth, about to say something, then thinks the better of it and walks away. </p><p>	Jon is…hard to figure out. He’s an excellent worker, and him and Sasha can get lost together for hours in interesting books. His whole being lights up when dragging Tim into a debate about architecture. But he doesn’t seem at all interested in interacting with people outside of a professional context, and he can be a major ass. </p><p>	On one hand, she can imagine Jon might be the type to scoff at her pregnancy, to think that it will interfere with her job too much. On the other hand, unlike some creep in the break room the other day, he hasn’t so much glanced at her quickly growing breasts. Pros and cons. </p><p>	“Doing all right?” Tim appears at her shoulder with his signature sunny smile.</p><p>	“You don’t have to hover,” Sasha scoffs. “I’m fine. Just got a new statement from the Archives that they want me to follow up.”</p><p>	“Why’s the Archives giving out research assignments?” Tim asks, sounding bewildered. “And at 2:17 on a Friday?”</p><p>	“Who knows.” Sasha starts perusing the statement—thankfully, there’s already a sticky note with contact information for the relevant people. She suspects the Archives is overloaded—Gertrude is alone down there, and Sasha can’t imagine dealing with that formidable basement of papers single handedly. “Don’t you have work to do?”</p><p>	“I’m done with everything relevant for today, actually. I was going to work on the Grey Lady paper with Jenkins, but he called in sick and he’s got all the notes.” He pokes at the file. “Need help?”</p><p>	“Tim,” Sasha tells him crossly. “I’m fine.”</p><p>	Truth his, her head is starting to hurt and she kind of just wants to fall asleep. But she can handle it.</p><p>	“You shouldn’t overexert yourself—”</p><p>	“Tim.”</p><p>	“All right. Just let me know if you need anything.”</p><p>	She can’t ask more of Tim than he’s willing to give. And she has no idea how much Tim is willing to give, because he keeps surprising her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wow, two fic chapters in one day! "but andy," you say, "none of your fics updated today." well. guess it's a mystery</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been three months and some change, and Tim is still there. Sasha’s always had a bit of softness around the middle, but now when she looks at herself in profile in the mirror, there’s an unmistakable something more. It’s not noticeable to someone not looking for signs of a pregnancy, and maybe she’s imagining it, and she tells Tim so.</p><p>	“I can see it,” he says as she examines herself in her bedroom mirror, dressed only in her underwear. It’s been a while since she’s been modest around him—there really isn’t much of a point, and it feels nice, somehow, to be able to just be non-sexually naked around someone. Plus the lowered boundaries mean she gets to see all the ridiculous boxers Tim owns, like the ones he’s wearing now, patterned with crawdads. “It’s just hitting me now that this is really happening.”</p><p>	She looks at his face, expecting to see fear and horror, the sudden realization of a life irreversibly changed. Instead, Tim is grinning like an idiot, his face split with the kind of unrestrained joy she’s never seen him show unguarded.</p><p>	Tim hovers a hand delicately over her stomach. “Can I…”</p><p>	Sasha takes his hand and guides it to the slight bump. His fingers rest ever so delicately against her skin, as if she’s a feral animal he’s afraid of scaring away. </p><p>	“We’re going to have to tell work soon enough,” Sasha laughs. </p><p>	“Breakfast first,” Tim says decisively. “I’ll make some rice bowls.”</p><p>	“Kimchi on mine!” Sasha calls after Tim. She can hear him humming happily all the way down the stairs.</p><hr/><p>“Should we tell Jon today?” Sasha asks.</p><p>	“I almost want to see how long it takes for him to figure it out,” Tim replies. “He’ll either Sherlock it out tomorrow or not notice until your water breaks at your desk.”</p><p>	“You really think I’ll be working all the way up till the birth?”</p><p>	“Of course I do, if no one stops you. You and Jon are more alike than you think.”</p><p>	“You wound me,” Sasha sniffs. “Unlike Jon, I’ve never used the break room coffee machine to make ramen at 6:30 p.m.”</p><p>	“I tried some of that ramen. It was disgusting.”</p><p>	“And he ate the whole bowl,” Sasha recalls with a sigh and a bite of her rice bowl. “This is delicious, Tim.”</p><p>	“You sound surprised. Did you not take me for a master chef?”</p><p>	Sasha swats him lightly on the arm. “I’ve had your cooking plenty of times, Tim. Doesn’t mean I can’t still compliment you.”</p><hr/><p>They end up not telling anyone for a few more weeks, by which time Sasha’s baby bump is distinctly noticeable. Part of Tim wants to leap on top of a table and yell about their new family to anyone who will listen, and the other part of him just wants to pretend Sasha’s simply carrying some alien eggs to anyone who asks. It’s not that he’s ashamed. Of course he’s not ashamed. His feelings about Sasha and their child are nothing more than raw, unadulterated excitement. He didn’t plan this pregnancy, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.</p><p>	No, he’s not having second thoughts about the baby. He is, however, having second thoughts about the Institute. He’d been willing to forgive a multitude of sins back when he was totally alone and just looking for someone, anyone to give him answers. But now that he’s starting a family, he can’t ignore the Institute’s problems anymore. Like the dangers they have in Artifact Storage, dangers that they keep secret for some reason, even though just one of those items could convert the likes of Jonathan Sims. Elias’s competent ease and odd familiarity suddenly seem creepy, and Tim is suddenly convinced that Elias is more than he seems. </p><p>	He’s being paranoid and he knows it. It’s only natural for him to get anxious about anything that could hurt his family, of course. </p><p>	Elias is the first they tell--they don’t want him hearing it from anyone else. He’s quite professional about it, and gives them a few papers explaining the Institute’s parental leave policy. </p><p>	“I do wish the two of you luck,” Elias says. </p><p>	“Thanks, boss,” Tim says cheerily. </p><p>	Jon is, of course, the next to know. They bring it up casually at lunch one day, having actually managed to drag Jon away to get some noodles. </p><p>	“Well,” Jon says awkwardly. “Congratulations are in order.”</p><p>	“I’m afraid we will be taking a few months of parental leave,” Tim says. “We’ll have to leave you alone for a bit.”</p><p>	Jon wilts a little. “Right. Well. I’ll miss you.” He perks up. “Could I...could I bring you some meals? Or buy you some supplies.”</p><p>	“Of course you can come visit!” Sasha says cheerily. “I’m sure the baby would love to meet you.”</p><p>	Jon gives her a slight smile. </p><p>	“Have you thought about names yet?” He asks.</p><p>“I’ve started to come up with a few,” Sasha replies. </p><p>Tim stays silent as Jon and Sasha drily trade increasingly ridiculous name ideas. He knows exactly what he wants the baby to be named, but he’s not quite ready to bring it up with Sasha yet.</p><hr/><p>Tim gets Sasha a footrest. He drops by her desk every hour to remind her to take a break. Most of the time, she brushes him off. She’s barely started her second trimester, she can work for two hours without a break. </p><p>And then Tim pulls a dirty, underhanded, lowball trick.</p><p>He gets Jon to take breaks.</p><p>Sasha doesn’t know how he does it. She just knows that, one day, Jon starts taking five-minute walks every hour and inviting her to join him. </p><p>“Did Tim put you up to this?” She demands.</p><p>Jon looks incredibly guilty. “No,” he insists unconvincingly.</p><p>Sasha glares at him. “Jon, you and Tim both know I am perfectly capable fo taking care of myself. I haven’t suddenly become helpless just because I’m pregnant.”</p><p>“You’ve been trying to get me to take more regular breaks for quite some time,” Jon points out. “I don’t understand why this is different.”</p><p>“It matters because you’re actually hurting yourself! I just happen to be carrying Tim’s baby. I’m not some—some—some incubator!”</p><p>“Who’s not an incubator?” Tim appears carrying some smoothies from the juice shop down the street. </p><p>“You put him up to this, didn’t you?” Sasha accuses.</p><p>Tim blinks. “Up to what?”</p><p>“Trying to get me to take breaks.” Sasha stands up and stabs an accusing finger into Tim’s chest. “Tim, I have read about pregnancy. I know how to take care of my body. I know how to take care of the baby, I was perfectly prepared to do this myself. I. Am. Fine.”</p><p>	Sasha glances at Jon, who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. </p><p>	“I think I’ll leave you two to sort this out.” He quickly makes his exit, presumably to take his walk.</p><p>	“I know you can take care of yourself,” Tim says softly. “I can take care of myself, too.” He sets the smoothies down and offers her a mango pineapple one. Her favorite. “But we don’t have to. I don’t want you to have to take care of yourself.” He sits down on the edge of the desk. His eyes are earnest and wide. “I...I know you’ve been on your own for a while. I have too. And I’m sorry if I’m overbearing. I’m sorry for patronizing you, I should have just come to you directly—although, to be fair, roping Jon in did get him to take some breaks…”</p><p>	“How did you swing that, anyway? Getting Jon to take breaks.”</p><p>	“He wanted to help you,” Tim replies simply. </p><p>	“You two aren’t being helpful.”</p><p>	“Then how can I be helpful?”</p><p>	“Just—“ Sasha makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know! I don’t know, Tim.”</p><p>	“Sasha,” he says seriously. “You know I’m all in on this, right?”</p><p>	“Yes.” Sasha is surprised to find she totally believes what she’s saying.</p><p>	“I can’t be a dad unless you let me, Sasha. It’s okay to not do this alone.”</p><p>	Sasha picks up the smoothie and takes a slow sip. </p><p>	“I’ll start taking breaks in a few weeks,” she says. “I just...I hate feeling like I’m delicate, all right? And it doesn’t help when you treat me like I am.”</p><p>	“I understand,” Tim says. “I’ll do better, I promise. I just worry about you, all right?”</p><p>	“You worry about me?” Sasha replies incredulously. “I worry about you, too! How come you aren’t taking breaks with Jon?”</p><p>	“Now, there’s an idea. I’m sure it’ll only take five walks to seduce him, great suggestion.”</p><p>	“Tim!” Sasha laughs.</p><hr/><p>Sasha starts asking Tim to massage her ankles and feet every few days, and he happily obliges, even offers every once in a while. She takes short walks with Jon every hour, and figures it’s good for them both. It’s always entertaining to see Jon try to fit his current research passion into five minutes. Tim reminds her to take her iron supplements, and she almost always doesn’t need the reminder as her memory is quite good, but she knows he’s just doing it because pills are hard to keep track of.</p><hr/><p>“We should talk.”</p><p>	Sasha looks up from her book to where Tim has paused in unloading the dishwasher. “Hm?”</p><p>	“Nothing bad,” Tim quickly reassures her. “Just a conversation we need to have.”</p><p>	Sasha shuts the book and sets it on the coffee table. “Okay.”</p><p>	Tim puts away the last clean plate and walks over to sit down beside Sasha on the couch. “What are we going to do about gender?” He asks.</p><p>	“Like, in general?”</p><p>	“For the baby.”</p><p>	Sasha blinks. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that. You’re probably far more qualified than me to decide, honestly.”</p><p>	“I mean, my doctors sure fucked it up when deciding my gender. And you know our kid might inherit my whole sleeper agent hormone thing. It’s probably okay to use their AGAB pronouns until they say otherwise, but I think we should try to raise them gender-neutral and let them decide if they want a gender, and then we can pick them up a gender from the store.”</p><p>	Sasha snickers.</p><p>	“And...I’ve been thinking of gender-neutral names,” Tim continues, suddenly sounding oddly cautious. His tone immediately turns back to being light as he says, “We can have a gender reveal party where we just lock everyone in a room and lecture them on gender theory.”</p><p>	Sasha nods sagely. “Cut the cake to reveal a green interior and refuse to explain.”</p><p>	“I just don’t want our kid to go through the confusion I did,” Tim says. </p><p>	“Whatever happens,” Sasha assures him, “we’ll support them. Don’t worry.”</p><p>	“We’re gonna be the best parents,” Tim says confidently.</p><hr/><p>“I want chocolate cake,” Sasha says abruptly, looking up from the phone book she’s looking through. “I could really go for some chocolate cake right now.”</p><p>	“On it!” Tim announces. He leaps to his feet and is about to sprint out of the research room when Elias strides in, carrying a plate containing a slice chocolate cake. “Ah, hello, boss. I’ll buy that slice off you for twenty bucks.”</p><p>	“No need,” Elias says crisply, setting the cake down in front of Sasha. “I brought it down for Ms. James.”</p><p>	Sasha picks up the fork already resting on the plate. “How did you know?”</p><p>	“Oh, one learns to pick up such things as the head of an Institute such as this. Do enjoy your cake.” </p><p>	With that cryptic comment, Elias leaves and Sasha eagerly digs in to the cake. </p><p>	“Huh,” Tim remarks.</p><p>	“This is really good cake,” says Sasha.</p><hr/><p>“So, how are we going to do parental leave?” Sasha asks.</p><p>	“The Institute has a policy that it has to be taken in two-week chunks,” Tims says, “with eight months total for both parents paid and an additional four months unpaid. I was thinking we’d both take the first six months off, and then alternate for the next two months, and only take the unpaid if we need it.”</p><p>	“You’ve clearly thought a lot about this,” Sasha remarks. </p><p>	“What, were you expecting me to forget you’re expecting?”</p><p>	Sasha laughs.</p><hr/><p>After about five months, Sasha is very obviously pregnant, which is fine, and people keep touching her belly unprompted, which is not fine. Sasha does not like being touched in ways she has not previously approved, and she nearly punches the first woman who comes up and lays a hand on her stomach. Sasha doesn’t even know the lady’s name. </p><p>	After that, Tim and Sasha have a system: if someone comes up to Sasha and lays a hand on her stomach without her consent, Tim sidles up to the person and lays a hand on <em>their</em> stomach without their consent. It’s gotten quite a few huffy replies, and every time it happens Sasha asks Tim for a chocolate, which he readily supplies from his seemingly bottomless pockets. </p><p>	Jon always asks before touching her, and Sasha appreciates that. She likes the way Jon’s face softens whenever he lays a hand on the swell of her belly.</p><hr/><p>Sasha isn’t sleeping very well. The first time, she thinks Tim woke her up—she wakes up, bleary-eyed and sore, to see a figure in the doorway. She can tell it’s Tim from the silhouette of messy hair. </p><p>	But no, it’s just pregnancy, and Tim just happened to be in the doorway.</p><p>	But it keeps happening.</p><p>	Sasha will wake up from some grievance of her body, and about once a week, Tim will be there in the doorway. She feigns sleep, and Tim leaves eventually.</p><p>	She doesn’t bring it up.</p><hr/><p>“...and inhale as you transition into downward dog…”</p><p>	They’ve started doing yoga together, shoving aside the chairs in the living room to make room for two yoga mats bought at a yard sale. Tim is extraordinarily flexible, far more than Sasha even before her belly got big. Sometimes he’ll make an exaggerated stretch and pop the bones in his spine.</p><hr/><p>At their next appointment, Dr. Sato puts on a stethoscope and, after a quick listen to Sasha’s stomach, hands her the earpieces with a smile. Sasha puts them in, and there it is: the unmistakable heartbeat of her baby. She smiles so wide her cheeks hurt and hands the earpieces to Tim. She watches his face as she listens, watches as the etched lines of worry in his face turn into laughter lines as his face softens into a smile. It’s not a smile of elation or easy camaraderie. It’s something sunlit and delicate, and for a moment Sasha wants to look away lest her mere gaze break it.</p><hr/><p>Sasha idly thinks she ought to go in for a haircut as she carefully washes her hair. Normally she can deal with her long and thick locks, but she suspects the care will get a lot more insurmountable once she has a newborn. </p><p>	She reaches for the conditioner, and in a heart-stopping moment that lasts an infinity, she slips. Her balance goes and she falls, a swooping feeling in her chest, toiletry bottles collapse around her in a clatter of plastic, and she just barely catches herself on the faucet. Sasha takes a moment to breathe before starting to condition her hair sitting down in the bathtub.</p><p>	Frantic footsteps run up the stairs and Tim hammers on the door, nearly making Sasha jump out of her skin.</p><p>	“Sasha?” Tim yells. “Sasha are you all right?”</p><p>	“I’m fine, Tim,” Sasha calls back. “Give me a second!”</p><p>	“Are you sure?” Tim calls back, yelling over the shower spray. “Did you hit your head? I heard you fall, are you okay?”</p><p>	“Tim! I’m fine!”</p><p>	When Sasha gets out of the bathroom, all snuggled into her plush bathrobe, Tim is slumped against the hallway wall waiting for her.</p><p>	“Tim, what are you doing?”</p><p>	Tim’s head snaps up. “Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”</p><p>	Sasha rolls her eyes. “I slipped in the shower. I’m fine.”</p><p>	Tim scrabbles to his feet. “We should really get a shower mat.”</p><p>	“Tim! It’s fine!”</p><p>	“Sasha, why are you being so reckless?” Tim snaps suddenly. “Your balance is compromised, and hundreds—thousands—lots of people die in the shower every year!” He heads for the stairs. “I’m ordering a shower mat.”</p><p>	“Tim.”</p><p>	“Sasha. It’s just common sense.”</p><p>	Sasha opens her mouth to berate him, but decides against it upon examining his face. She expects Tim to look jovial and a bit frustrated, but instead he’s wearing an expression only Sasha recognizes. He’s trying not to cry.</p><p>	“Tim,” Sasha says softly. “We agreed to talk to each other, didn’t we?”</p><p>	Tim slumps back onto the floor, and Sasha sits down beside him.</p><p>	“I never used to remember my dreams,” he says abruptly. He runs a hand over his face. “I…”</p><p>	Sasha leans into his side, and Tim melts into her in turn. He puts an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.</p><p>	“Until Danny.” His voice is flat and tired. “After Danny, I dreamed about what happened almost every night. And then I wasn’t just dreaming about what happened—he died in all sorts of ways.” He chuckles humorlessly. “A death for every hobby, pretty much. And it didn’t stop there. Every time I start to give a shit about someone…” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Neighbors, friends, coworkers—all of them die in my dreams. Hell, I’ve had more than one nightmare about Jon getting eaten by a giant spider. But most of them are about my very best friend, Sasha James. Maybe I’ve been reading too many catastrophizing articles, because I keep having nightmares about common causes of death in pregnant women. One of which is slipping in the shower.” He sniffles. “I guess it’s a sign I need a therapist when the term ‘eclampsia’ starts appearing in my subconscious, huh?”</p><p>	“That’s why you keep checking on me at night,” Sasha breathes.</p><p>	Tim bites his lip and his eyes shine with tears. </p><p>	“I’m so scared, Sasha, I’m so scared I’m gonna lose you—” and Tim breaks down, crying into his hands. Sasha gathers him into her arms, and though he’s bigger than her he seems to slot perfectly into her embrace.</p><p>	“It’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking a hand through hair that’s far too grey for his age. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>	“You don’t know that,” Tim mutters. “No one can know that.”</p><p>	Sasha has no response to that, so she just holds him closer. </p><p>	She decides to order a shower handle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>usually i plug my tumblr here but fuck it i also got a youtube. its also ceaselesslywatched and its got a few animatics</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Catch me on tumblr at theandromedarecord. Maybe even take a stroll through the "my art" tag to see my DILF tim</p></blockquote></div></div>
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